


Comfort Food for Beginners, Part 7:  The Food of Love (Dean/Castiel)

by squeemonster



Series: Comfort Food [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:30:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeemonster/pseuds/squeemonster





	Comfort Food for Beginners, Part 7:  The Food of Love (Dean/Castiel)

**Title** :  Comfort Food for Beginners, Part 7:  The Food of Love  
 **Rating** :  NC-17  
 **Pairing** :  Dean/Castiel  
 **Word Count** :  4290  
 **Notes** :  Part 7 of my [Comfort Food series](http://squeemonster.livejournal.com/tag/comfort%20food%20for%20beginners). This series is not in chronological order, it's just different scenes from the lives of those in Team Free Will, focusing on the relationship between Dean and Cas. Set after the events of season six, Castiel is now fully human and hunting with the Winchesters. Many thanks to [](http://zatnikatel.livejournal.com/profile)[ **zatnikatel**](http://zatnikatel.livejournal.com/)  who whipped my writing into readable shape and is the best enabler a writer could ask for.  
 **Summary** :  Dean decides it's time to facilitate his own chick-flick moment, Winchester-style.

 

Dean quietly lets himself into the motel room, doing his best to juggle the doughnuts and container of orange juice without waking Cas. The room is dark and silent, the sun not yet up. He squints at their bed, trying to make out Cas's sleeping form, but all he can see in the darkness is an unmoving lump. He oh-so carefully places his keys on the kitchenette table, the food and drinks following close behind. He listens and watches, waiting to see or hear any clue of Cas being awake, anything to let him know if Cas is aware of his presence. The only feedback he gets is from the ice machine three doors down, the noise of clunking ice cubes interrupting the pre-dawn peace.

Dean stands and stares for minutes on end, trying to work out in his stupid brain just how he can fix this latest stupid mistake, how to right this wrong. He didn't come back here last night. But that's not even the biggest idiotic thing he did. The reason he didn't come back was because he abandoned Cas; just walked away, jumped in the Impala and drove off, tires screeching in protest.

It seemed a good idea at the time, him being so pissed off that he couldn't handle even looking at his friend, let alone trying to talk to him and explain why he was so mad. Although, really, there was no need for an explanation as far as Dean was concerned. Cas had endangered his life, _again_ , all to save Dean and Sam, who were stupid enough to get knocked unconscious and tied up by a couple of douchebag demons who were using them as bait to get to Cas. Seems a fallen angel is a hot commodity in the demon world, who'dve thunk it.

And Cas had stormed in, obviously without much of a plan, and without even having gotten any backup. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Thankfully, the demons didn't notice when Ruby's knife fell out of Cas's waistband as they kicked him across the room. Even more thankfully, the knife skidded close enough for Dean to pick it up with his feet and finagle it into Sam's hands, so his brother could use it to cut through the bindings around his wrists before jumping up to save Cas from the truly sucktastic beating he was getting.

By the time Sam had freed Dean from his own bindings, Dean had worked himself up into such a rage that he almost punched Cas himself. "What the _fuck_ , Cas? Are you a fucking moron? Nobody goes into a demon hideout without a plan! What the fuck were you even thinking?!"

Cas was slow to get up, ribs obviously bruised, and he'd looked at Dean warily, wiping the blood off his lips before he answered. "I was _thinking_ you and Sam needed me. I was _thinking_ if I didn't get to you as soon as possible that there might not be anything left to save."

Dean had stood there, hands on his hips, gritting his teeth as he stared Cas down. Then, without saying another word, he'd turned around and walked out of the warehouse they'd been holed up in, fishing his car keys out of his pocket along the way. He'd gotten into the Impala and driven away without looking back, even as Sam ran out of the building yelling his name.

Dean knew it was a dick move to leave them both there, knew he'd regret it, but he was so furious and terrified that he couldn't stand the thought of staying in a room with Cas for another second.

He'd almost lost Cas again. And impossibly enough, the thought of this hurt about a hundred times more than the last time he'd lost him, when those Purgatory souls had taken over. Because now Dean knows what he can have with Cas, what he _does_ have with Cas. It's more than he ever thought he could have, more than he ever thought he deserved to have, and he almost lost it there in a flash of self-sacrifice that is so fucking familiar to Dean he'd laugh if it didn't scare and sicken him so much.

After driving around all night, trying to get his bearings and understand exactly why he'd had such a violent and visceral reaction to the events of last night, Dean had realized a few things. One, that he couldn't ask Cas or Sam, or even Bobby, to stop doing these stupid kamikaze missions when he's the one who's a damsel in distress because he knows, without a doubt, that if they asked the same of him he'd laugh in their faces. It's part and parcel of being part of the Winchester family, whether you're a part of it by blood or by other means.

Two, that from now on, they needed to formulate a "fire drill" type plan in case of kidnappings or other emergencies where one or a few of them get lost or captured. They needed to set some rules and guidelines about what to do and what not to do, no matter what.

And lastly, he needed to finally bite the bullet and let Cas know exactly how much he means to him. Oh sure, he knows that Cas knows he cares about him and needs him, and hell, Dean's sure he even knows that Dean loves him. You don't share a "profound bond" if there's no love there. But Dean's never said it out loud to him. He's shown him in a million different ways with his body, his caresses, his kisses. He's heard Cas whisper it against his skin when he thinks Dean has fallen asleep. But Dean has never told him, and Cas has obeyed the implicit request that they not take things to even higher chick-flick levels than they already have.

But after last night, Dean can't bear the thought of either one of them losing the other without the words having been said. Or without Cas understanding just how prominent a place he really has now in Dean's world. Along with Sammy, Cas _is_ Dean's world: his sun, his moon, and his fucking stars.

Dean stands there, staring at that stupid, still lump of a stupid, stubborn guy in their stupid motel bed. And his heart _aches_ with love. More than that, it aches with the need to show and tell.

He tiredly kicks off his boots and removes his clothes, all the while watching and doing his best not to wake Cas. He picks up a corner of the covers, careful to slide in under the bedsheets with the least amount of disturbance as possible. He gravitates towards the heat of Cas's body on the other side of the bed, slowly lifts his hand up, reaching out to him. Cas is lying on his stomach, covers pushed down almost past his hips, his back bare. Dean's hand skirts along the curve of his lower back and up along his shoulder blades. He leans down to place a kiss in the middle of his back, skin soft and warm at the touch of his lips.

Cas doesn't wake up at this first touch, and loathe as he is to disturb him, Dean can't resist taking things further. He closes his eyes as he kisses his way down Cas's spine, mouthing at the knob of each vertebra. He breathes in Cas's scent, a mixture of soap, clean cotton, autumn leaves, and Dean's own shampoo, which never fails to turn Dean on more than he ever thought possible, flooding his senses with _mine_.

He moves his hand further along Cas's back, ahead of his lips, to edge the sheets and waistband of his friend's boxers down a bit so his lower back is completely exposed. He dips his tongue into the dimple just above Cas's left buttock, his hand reaching over to caress the dimple on his right side with his thumb, and the instant he does so, Dean feels Cas's breathing stop, his body tensing as he finally wakes up and realizes he's not alone. He carefully begins breathing again, not moving or acknowledging Dean's presence or actions.

Dean shifts and scoots up to settle himself flush to Cas, kissing his way back up along his friend's spine, taking a moment to gently bite at his shoulder blades as he does so, smiling against skin when he hears Cas gasp, the blades always so skittish under his mouth. Dean's wondered before if the reaction might be some sort of muscle memory, a reminder of his wings, but he's never asked, not wanting to make Cas sad by bringing it up.

He licks his way along the back of Cas's neck, nuzzling the fine hairs at his nape. "I got fresh-squeezed orange juice and homemade doughnuts," Dean whispers. "Lady at the gas station up the road said this bakery had the best OJ and doughnuts in the whole South. I had to stand in line almost two hours this morning to get it, but I know how much you love a good glass of orange juice, so I figured it was worth it."

Dean feels Cas shiver as he whispers all of this, but he gets no more reaction than that from him. He waits a few beats, but Cas remains silent. "Sooo, you wanna eat the doughnuts while they're still warm," he prods cautiously. "Or what?"

Cas sighs. He shifts and pushes back against Dean, then leans forward, turning onto his side and facing away from Dean, so their bodies are no longer touching. "Dean, what you did last night..." he says, as he stares at the wall in front of him. "A glass of juice and a pastry isn't going to make up for that."

Dean stills and gazes at the back of Cas's head, hand hovering over his bicep. He waits to see if Cas is going to say anything else, but he's met with silence and a rhythm of breathing that becomes steady after a few moments, indicating that Cas is drifting back to sleep. Dean slides his fingers up and along his arm, watching the goosebumps rise and the hairs on his friend's arm stand up. He pulls his shoulder down and towards him, trying to maneuver Cas onto his back, but he receives resistance at first. After a few seconds of pull and push, he tries, "Are we there yet?"

Cas relents with an exasperated sigh, rolling onto his back but keeping his face towards the opposite wall.

Ignoring the obvious sulking, as well as how he knows he deserves all the sulking in the world and then some after his actions last night, Dean leans down to kiss and nuzzle at Cas's jawline, enjoying the scritching and rawness the day-old stubble makes him feel against his lips. He licks and suckles at the long line of Cas's neck, one hand reaching up to run his fingers through his friend's hair, his thumb rubbing soft circles on his forehead. Ever so slowly, he begins to make his way down Cas's chest, taking his time to bite and suck on each nipple, eyes always watching for any reaction he may pull from Cas. The only reaction he gets is Cas closing his eyes and steeling his jaw.

But that's enough for now.

He gently progresses over Cas's ribs, grimacing at the purpled bruises he finds. He makes a point to kiss each rib, whispering, "I'm sorry" to every bruise he finds.

He licks a path along Cas's stomach, stopping a moment to swirl his tongue around his navel. He scoots his own body down the length of Cas, wrapping an arm around his friend's thighs and laying his chin on his pelvis. He stares up and along his body, taking in the view. All those years Cas had remained hidden under those layers of clothes and that ridiculous trenchcoat, Dean had always assumed that the body underneath was puny: a skinny, reedy, pale little thing. But nothing could have been further from the truth. Cas may be pale, but he's definitely no stick figure – he's all male: hard angles, lean muscles, broad shoulders, and strong arms.

Every day, Dean changes his mind about which part of Cas's body is his favorite. Sometimes, it's his lips, the fullness of them, the way they become so pink and flushed after Dean's been sucking on them it's practically fucking obscene. Other days, it's his hands. Those long, graceful fingers distract Dean on a daily basis as he imagines them wrapping around his wrists, pulling his hands up with a strength that shouldn't surprise Dean but always does, shocking him and revving him up to eleven simultaneously. As he studies them he thinks about taking them into his mouth, licking them up and getting them wet so that Cas can slide them down his body and slip them into his hole, one, two, three fingers pumping and curling inside him until he's panting and begging for more, always more.

But today, his favorite part of Cas's body has to be his hips. Pelvis, smooth and flat, pale except for the trail of dark pubic hair that tickles Dean's fingertips as they wander lower. His hipbones ... _fuck_ , Dean could write fucking poetry about those hipbones. He finds himself, at random times during the day and out of the blue, falling into a daze daydreaming about Cas's hips. More than once, he's not been able to resist brushing up against Cas in public and sliding his hands down to the waistband of his pants, tugging them down just enough so he can get a glimpse of his hip bone. Even more often, he'll grab Cas by his waist as he walks by, his hand sliding down to squeeze his hip, just to get a quick fix to last him until later that night.

Dean is embarrassed to admit to himself, let alone Cas, how often he's had to excuse himself to the restroom after those split-second gropings, so that he can rub one off to clear his brain.

He has never, in his 30-odd years of existence, felt this much of an obsession for another human being before, this desperate need to always be near, always be _touchingsmellingfeelingtasting_. He'd almost worry about it, except that he knows Cas feels the same about him. And hell, given all the shitstorms they've waged to save mankind or whatthefuckever, Dean figures they deserve some goddamn _us-time_ for a change. As long as Sammy's still around to keep him grounded, he knows he'll be fine. They'll all be fine, so long as they have each other.

Tired of just looking and not doing, Dean turns his head to kiss Cas's hipbone. His friend lets loose a sigh and shifts his legs a bit, but gives no more response than that. Dean doesn't mind, though. This, right now, isn't for him, or for receiving any praise or encouragement. It's simply to let Cas know how he feels.

He continues to suck and lick, alternating bites with kisses, tongue with teeth. After several minutes of dedicated work, he lifts up to see the fresh bloom of a hickey, skin red and angry from the onslaught. This one is going to stick around for days, the skin swollen and raised from how hard he was sucking. Dean makes a mental note to get Cas to wear those jeans that hang extra low on his hips so it'll be easier to catch a glimpse of it during the daytime, and then he moves on to lavish similar attention to the other hip.

As he works the point of bone, he skirts his fingers down the front of Cas's boxers, barely touching along the line of his cock through the fabric. Cas sighs again, squirming almost as if to get away from Dean, but he seems to surrender before even really trying to move. Dean spares a glance at his face, but Cas is still turned away from him, eyes open and staring at the wall. Dean licks one final swipe along the cut of his friend's hip and then curls his fingers under the waistband of Cas's shorts, slowly pulling them down, kissing every inch of skin as it becomes exposed. He presses his lips along and around the base of Cas's dick, watching as it begins to grow and get hard from his teasing, but he slides away from it as it twitches for more attention, licking his way further down Cas's groin.

He reaches to pull Cas's boxers down his legs and off his feet, slinking his way back up his friend's body and settling himself in the V between his legs. He leans over to lick his way to the crease between thigh and groin, completely content to suck and nibble there for days, given the view he has as he glances up to watch Cas. He's finally beginning to show signs of being affected by Dean's ministrations, his hands grasping and clinging to the sheets, the muscles of his forearms flexing and rippling underneath his skin. Dean stares as Cas's tongue peeks out from his mouth, wetting it before his teeth bite down on his bottom lip.

Cas turns his head and looks down at Dean, making eye contact before glancing away again. "You know, sex isn't going to make up for last night, either," he croaks, voice deep from sleep and desire. He adds, as if in afterthought, "Assbutt."

Dean smiles against fevered skin as he hears the term, his heart swelling that much more over how fucking ridiculous and adorable this man can be all at the same time. "Maybe not, but it'll sure be fun tryin', dontcha think?"

He smirks as he watches Cas roll his eyes at him, taking note of how Cas finally brings his hand up to cup the back of his head, rubbing his fingers through his hair. He continues to nuzzle and suck at the skin between thigh and groin, absently circling and caressing the base of Cas's shaft with one hand while rubbing his hipbone with the thumb of the other.

After a few minutes, Dean chuckles as he feels Cas applying pressure to the nape of his neck, encouraging him to move things along in the direction of his dick. Dean shoots Cas a look, sees wide solemn eyes staring back at him, before he winks and mouths his way along Cas's pelvis, lips replacing fingers to circle the base of his cock. Cas jumps at the wet sensation, hips thrusting up, but Dean was prepared for it, having become well-versed in the language of Cas's body already, knowing that the first touch of his mouth to Cas's cock will always make him buck up, no matter how hard Cas tries to prevent it.

He uses his tongue to make his way up along the underside of Cas's dick, swirling it around the head and into the slit, savoring the salty-sweet taste of pre-come. He smiles and spares a passing thought to wonder if Cas has been eating pineapples on the sly, before opening his mouth wider, to take the tip of Cas's dick into his mouth. He stares at Cas's face as he sucks, cheeks hollowing out and tongue undulating against the underside of the head. Cas moans, pulling his legs up to dig the heels of his feet into the mattress, fingers plucking frantically at the sheets as he thrusts his hips up in a desperate attempt to make Dean take in more of him.

"Dean ... _please_ ," he whispers, eyes squeezed shut.

Dean leans back long enough to kiss the crown of Cas's dick, all red and swollen and _utterly fucking delicious_ , and murmurs, "I got you, Cas. Gonna make you feel so good ... "

He grips Cas's cock, index and middle finger sliding up the length of it, as he slowly works his mouth over the head and down the shaft, doing his best to accommodate it and his fingers. It's not easy, given Cas's girth, but it gets the job done, his fingers getting slick with spit and pre-come. Once wet, he slips his fingers behind Cas's balls, feeling his way to his opening. As he breaches the rim, Cas groans, his hands tightening in Dean's hair.

"Oh ... oh, fuck, Dean, _yes_ ... "

Dean smirks as best he can with a mouth and throat full of dick. _Hell yeah, practice makes perfect_ , he thinks as he bobs his head on Cas's cock. He lets Cas thrust weakly into his mouth, squeezing and massaging the base of his shaft with his free hand, swiping the head and slit with his tongue on the upswing of every few thrusts. After a few minutes of this, he decides to up the game by adding a second finger to pump and fuck into Cas's ass, while at the same time making his teeth just barely scrape the underside of his friend's dick, which is a kink of Cas's both he and Dean had been delighted to discover a few months back.

This combination is what pushes Cas over the edge, as Dean knew it would. Cas lets loose a surprised yelp, his hand gripping the back of Dean's head as he holds him in place and fucks his mouth. He begins to mumble words in Enochian, a phrase unknown to Dean that he started repeating a few months back, every time he got close to climax. Dean's own erection throbs, ignored for the time being, but at this point, Dean doesn't give a shit. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he came right now without even being touched, considering how fucking hot Cas looks, wrecked and debauched, taking everything he wants from Dean.

Dean keeps his head down and hangs on for the ride, his fingers pumping and curling inside Cas, reaching for his prostate to give Cas that final push. Once he finds it, Cas cries out one last time, his body tensing and stilling as he climaxes. Dean slowly pumps him through it, swallowing him down, long since past his aversion to the taste of come. He watches as Cas's breathing slows down and regulates, feeling pretty damn proud of himself for how far he's come, _heh_ , since he first started trying to suck dick.

Dean pulls off Cas's cock as he feels it softening, giving the head one last kiss before letting it settle against his thigh. Cas looks down at him when he feels the kiss, and holds eye contact with him as Dean leans in to nuzzle at his hip bone again. Dean feels a herd of butterflies stampede inside his stomach as he realizes this is the moment.

He sucks in a breath, and murmurs, "I love you."

Cas's eyes go wide, his mouth a perfect "O" of shock, and it'd be hilarious if Dean wasn't so terrified. He leans over to Cas's other hipbone, holding eye contact as he kisses it. "I love you," he breathes against his skin.

He scoots up to kiss at Cas's bellybutton, never breaking their stare as he repeats again, "I love you."

He slides up Cas's body, kissing every favorite part (which, let's face it, is every inch), repeating the phrase over and over again, now a mantra, a prayer, a plea, a promise, everything in one tiny phrase _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_.

When he reaches Cas's mouth, he pauses. He stares deep into his eyes, making sure Cas understands what this means, understands that saying these words is ripping off that one last bandaid over his heart, that here he is, splayed open and fucking naked and _here_ , all here, just for Cas.

"I love y—"

Cas reaches up before he can finish his sentence, crushing their mouths together. Dean groans as Cas wraps his arms and legs around him, sliding his body just _so_ , pulling at Dean until his erection is trapped in that same crease between thigh and groin that Dean had been obsessing over not too long ago.

He knew that was his favorite spot for a good reason.

 

**********************************************************

An hour later, after Cas has gulped down almost the whole gallon of orange juice ("I _told_ you it was good fucking orange juice, Cas"), and after Dean has licked the doughnut icing off of Cas's fingers ("You sure you don't want to eat more, Cas?" "Dean, if you suck on my fingers anymore this morning they're going to be prunier than a raisin"), Dean thinks to finally ask for a translation of that phrase Cas has been saying lately in bed.

Cas pauses. "It's Enochian," he tells Dean quietly. "It means…" He turns to set his glass down on the nightstand, looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye. "I love you."

Dean looks down at his hands for a moment. "So, all these months, you've been telling me you love me?"

"Yes, Dean." Cas is watching him warily. "I know how you feel about this sort of thing, which is why I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by saying it before you were ready."

Dean plays with a frayed thread at the edge of the comforter on the bed. He remains silent for a few seconds, before mumbling, "Still though, just remember who 'officially' said it first." He looks up at Cas and smirks before leaning in for a kiss. "Saying it in a foreign language is cheating."

Cas smiles as he watches Dean reach for another doughnut. "Yes, Dean. As you wish."

"Hey, no invoking _The Princess Bride_ , either! I officially said it first!" Dean splurts, around a mouthful of doughnut.

"Of course, Dean."

"I'm starting to regret teaching you sarcasm, now."  



End file.
